Deadman Switch
by LadyArcherfan
Summary: There's no way that Dean's going to let anyone drive his car into that situation, not when he just got his baby back.


**Title:**"Deadman Switch"  
**Author: **LadyArcherfan  
**Characters:** Dean, Cas, Sam and Meg  
**Genre:** Gen, missing scene  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 1,142  
**Spoilers:** Set during 7x23  
**Warnings:** None  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but a oft inspired and oft stubborn muse. Title taken from a Stargate SG1 episode of the same name.  
**Summary:** There's no way that Dean's going to let any one drive his car into that situation, not when he just got his baby back.  
**Notes**: When I first watched the scene in _Survival of the Fittest_, I was as shocked as anyone to see Meg crawl out of the Impala, no matter how much strategic sense it made, especially when there were two very familiar looking silhouettes seen while the Impala made her grand entrance. So having just finished a rewatch of the season, the muse demanded to write a quick scene that explained that. Here is my head canon. Lyrics quoted are Deep Purple's _Highway Star_.

* * *

_"So we're gonna announce ourselves. Big."_

The Sucrocorp headquarters in Chicago were roughly at a halfway point from Rufus' cabin and where the Impala had been stored. Half way-ish. Sam and Meg would meet them outside of Chicago and go from there. The world was on the brink of destruction, but Dean was in control again, making the decisions. It could all end, but he was going to go down swinging. Bobby was gone, but Cas was back – sorta – there was a job to do, and he had his baby again.

A smile tugged at his lips as he felt the long missed rumble of the Impala's engine through the seat, the steering wheel, the air itself. The car's pulse was nearly as familiar as his own, comfortable and reassuring and he revved the engine; the car growled in response and shot down the road. Deep Purple's Highway Star blared through the speakers, and Dean bobbed his head to the beat.

Cas was in the passenger seat, back straight, eyes forward and hands folded on his lap. He hadn't said a word since they had started driving, though he had smiled when Dean crooned, "Oh, baby, I missed you," as the engine turned over with a grumble. However, many hours and several states into their drive, he turned towards Dean, brows quirked in a question.

"May I offer some criticism on the plan to attack Sucrocorp?"

Dean grunted. "Listen, we've discussed this. No one but me is driving my baby into the Death Star, alright?"

Cas tilted his head in something of a nod, but continued no the less. "Yes, the plan is to create a distraction with the car, and then we go find the real Dick while Sam locates Kevin Tran. And I understand your emotional connection to the car – well, not understand it, but at least accept it-"

Dean rolled his eyes. "This car is the love of my life, and don't you ever doubt it."

With a final brow lift, Cas left the subject lie, and pressed on with his original question, "But it does not make sense to risk being shot or eaten or otherwise killed by the security guards that are bound to be there. An ordinary corporation would have security, but the Leviathans are going to be even more vigilant and violent, especially with all of their chiefs of staff and Dick all together, and with their knowledge of our attack."

His cell phone rang and saved Dean from having to defend his decision. "Yeah, Sam?" he asked.

"Dean, we need to reconsider our entrance strategy for Sucrocorp," his brother's voice managed to be firm but concerned through the tinny cell phone speaker.

"Are you and Cas on the same freaking wave length or something all of a sudden?" he snapped. "If we are going to use my car as a distraction – and obviously every one of those sons of bitches knows this car and who drives it – I am going to drive her."

"We can't be the distraction _and _the secret strike force," Sam pointed out. "Someone else is going to have to do the trench run, Dean."

Dean snarled and the music swelled through the Impala's speakers.

_Nobody gonna take my girl_  
_I'm gonna keep her to the end_  
_Nobody gonna have my girl_  
_She stays close on every bend_

"Then who's gonna drive her, huh?" Dean demanded. "Cas needs to be with us, that leaves-"

"Meg," Sam interrupted him. "She's still here."

"No. Not happening, Sam," Dean said in a tone that brooked no argument. "No way in hell is a demon driving my baby."

Cas turned in his seat to look at Dean curiously. "I am sure Meg is a competent driver," he started but a single, murderous look from Dean silenced him.

"Dean, we don't have much else of an option," Sam pressed.

"Damn it. Listen, when we regroup, I'll have a plan that doesn't involve a demon driving my car. Okay? Until then, we go with the original plan." He hung up.

Cas turned back to look out of the windshield. "Do you actually have an alternate plan in mind? Because the original plan has flaws, as both Sam and myself have pointed out-"

"Not yet, let me think!" Dean snapped.

Unperturbed, Cas relented, his fingers tapping out the rhythm of the music. "Because, I can suggest an alternate plan."

"Fine, let's hear it, I've got nothing at the moment," Dean muttered.

A faint, superior smile appeared on Cas' face, recalling something of the solider of heaven who'd been hanging around a snarky pair of hunters for the last few years.

"I still don't like this," Dean said to Sam.

"Yeah, well, it's better than your half assed plan," Sam replied. He took a deep breath and looked down the road. "You ready for this?" he asked.

Dean frowned slightly. "No," he admitted. "But this is the job. And we're going to do it right." And he pressed the accelerator to the floor.

The Impala sprang forward, her engine roaring out her own battle cry. They flew down the road, tires squealing around corners, slipping on the wet pavement a bit. But Dean's hands never faltered on the wheel, eyes never leaving the road. Beside him, Sam sat tensed and battle ready, yet at ease, in his proper place once again.

Sucrocorp loomed a head of them. Dean's eyes flicked towards the rearview mirror. "You better get the timing right, Cas," he muttered.

They roared around a corner and took out a narrow barrier, the wooden arm shattering and flying away from the Impala's sturdy hood. Dean spotted the wide, black glass Sucrocorp sign and pressed the gas pedal down further. Beside him, Sam tensed, bracing for impact.

"I'm sorry, baby," Dean muttered as his fingers tightened on the wheel.

The Impala's front tires hit the curb and leapt up. The bumper hit the glass and a spider web of cracks begins. And Dean staggered against Sam as the roar of the Impala is replaced by the whoosh of wings. His feet hit pavement and instead of the shattered glass of the sign he saw a blank wall. In the distance behind him he heard the rest of the crash.

"I told you, I could remove you from the car and put Meg in it in less than a heartbeat." Cas stood behind them, his hands resting lightly on their shoulders.

Dean blinked and glanced back in the direction of the Impala. "Oh, I'm so sorry baby," he muttered again.

Sam cleared his throat and said, "You done mourning?"

"Yeah," Dean said as he turned back to his brother. "Don't get killed," he ordered.

Sam allowed something like a worried and terrified smile to flit across his face. "Yeah, you too."

Dean nodded once, sharply. "Let's do this."


End file.
